


The Waterline Divides Us

by thedaughterofkings



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Noble Derek Hale, Pining, Selkie Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Derek Hale, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 03:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15355545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedaughterofkings/pseuds/thedaughterofkings
Summary: An arranged marriage to Lady Jennifer Blake hadn't seemed like a bad idea at first. But lately Derek hasn't been so sure about it anymore. It might have something to do with one of her household - Stiles Stilinski, with golden eyes and a scent of salt and sea that Derek just cannot forget. He's a mystery Derek is dying to solve.





	The Waterline Divides Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HDHale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HDHale/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Waterline Divides Us](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15355968) by [HDHale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HDHale/pseuds/HDHale). 



> This is my entry for the Sterek Reverse Bang!  
> It was inspired by [the breathtakingly gorgeous art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15355968) by [hd-hale](https://hd-hale.tumblr.com) and I hope the fic does it justice! It was an absolute joy to work with you on this!  
> Beta-read by the wonderful [Larissa](https://ohfuckthisshit.tumblr.com), who really went the extra mile for this fic!  
> Thanks to [M_De_Petit's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_De_Petit/pseuds/M_De_Petit) impressive work, this fic now also exists in [Russian](https://ficbook.net/readfic/7190403)!

Derek feels the apprehension building within him as they approach the imposing house towering over the cliffs. Lady Blake’s home is foreboding and everything within Derek baulks at the thought of entering it. The only thing that keeps him going is the memory that this feeling is going to disappear as soon as he gets inside, to be replaced by a vague contentment that will make it hard to feel or think anything in particular. And of course the thought of his sisters. They are the main reason he is here anyways.

 

As if she can hear his thoughts, Laura leans in closer to him and says:

 

“You really don’t need to do this, you hear me? I’d rather never marry than know you unhappy in your marriage.”

 

There’s no lie in her heartbeat, but as sure as she is of her words, Derek is equally sure that he couldn’t live with himself if he hadn’t done everything in his power to give his sisters the chance to find happiness. If Jennifer Blake can give him that, then he’ll be happy because of that knowledge alone.

 

Lady Jennifer Blake is of impeccable standing and respectable ancestry, a beauty to boot and the sole heiress to a vast fortune. There were many mutterings when she first approached Derek. While not heir to a large fortune himself, he himself is of impeccable ancestry, able to count back in his family tree for centuries - unfortunately they are all werewolves. And while the existence of the supernatural is widely known and generally accepted, werewolves don't have the best of reputations. They usually just get written off as brutal, uncouth, and simply too animalistic for more gentlefolk to associate with.

 

Derek's mother has always worked hard to allay those fears and counteract the prejudices she had to encounter. And compared to other werewolf families the Hales actually have quite a good standing in society in general - they get invited to parties and balls, his mother even has a seat on the council. But all that good will apparently doesn't extend to letting a werewolf into their families.

 

Laura has been of marriage age for several years now without a single prospect arising. While that truly doesn't seem to bother her, Cora has just come of age, too and Derek _knows_ she has her eye on someone, even if he doesn't know whom. But only the lowest of scum have shown any interest in either of his sisters so far. The kind that is willing to marry a werewolf not despite, but because of their otherness, because of their strength, making for cheap labour, or for the thrill of breaking one so strong. Derek would die before he saw either of his sisters caught in such a trap. If marrying Lady Blake can save them from that fate and perhaps even better Cora’s chances to find love, then he'll gladly do it.

 

There's a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Laura, asking what could bring Lady Blake to pursue him, if even his beautiful and formidable sisters are shunned. It's a question Derek has asked himself repeatedly, and the answers he has come up with are not all pleasant. There are a lot of ways a werewolf can be of use to a witch, and none of them are healthy for the were. But perhaps the most harmless answer is the truth after all - due to the rumours surrounding her, Lady Blake is dealing with her own set of prejudices and perhaps that has influenced her choice of Derek. It's what Derek is going to believe until he is proven wrong at least.

 

Whatever Lady Blake’s reasoning, Derek always has to steel himself before visiting her. The vague contentment that usually fills him in Blake Manor never seems to extend to his sisters and it makes for awkward visits. Cora tends to be unbearably rude, only concerned with propriety when it means she can squeeze between Derek and Lady Blake - as if Derek were an immature boy with a crush and the self-restraint of a dog in heat instead of a grown man preparing for a marriage of convenience. He does notice though that the fog that always settles around him when he enters Blake Manor lifts a little when Cora separates them. He just isn't sure that's a good thing, as the increased clarity of thought also brings back all the doubts and worries he tries to dispel from his head.

 

Laura, in contrast to Cora’s rudeness, is unfailingly polite in Lady Blake’s presence, but it is the kind of politeness that bites, compliments being thinly veiled insults, smiles too sharp and showing too many teeth. Lady Blake retaliates in kind and more than once Derek expects them to come to blows. But good breeding wins each time and it remains a battle of words, no blood drawn.

 

Derek really should do more to keep the peace between his sister and his prospective wife, but he's much too relieved at the respite their fights give him. Lady Blake’s undivided attention is a lot to bear and with Laura occupying her, Derek sometimes gets the chance to slip away for a breath of fresh air. He's not uncouth enough to go snooping into Lady Blake’s private rooms, but even just the entry hall reveals interesting titbits when you're not being hurried through it.

 

The grey pelt hanging on the wall above the fireplace for example. That wasn't there yet during Derek's last visit, he's pretty sure of that. Curiosity sparked, he steps forward for a closer look. It's thick fur, dark grey with a smattering of lighter patches, and it looks wonderfully warm and soft. Unthinkingly, Derek reaches out to touch it, too see if it is as soft as it looks, but a voice makes him jerk backwards.

 

“It's a sealskin. Great for warmth, even better for swimming - if you are a seal.”

 

It's thankfully not Lady Blake who caught him and as Derek turns around, he sees a young man, probably a few years his junior, pale and unkissed by the sun but for a smattering of beauty spots which stand out darkly against his fair skin. He's dressed plainly, but despite a seemingly decent fit, his posture makes it clear that he is not comfortable with his outfit.

 

“I did not realise the Lady Blake partook in seal clobbering,” Derek says, unable to keep the disgust he feels entirely out of his voice. He does not begrudge those the work who'd starve or freeze otherwise, but it is a brutal pastime for those who have no necessity for it, only distraction and pleasure.

 

“Not generally, no,” the young man says. “This one must have been an exceptional case.” He sounds rueful and Derek wonders at the history behind his words. But with that question he realises that he doesn't even know the man's name and feels his ears heat up in embarrassment. Dropping into a short bow, respectful but not too low - he doesn't know the man's standing yet after all, he introduces himself:

 

“I am Derek Hale, Lord of Beacon, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

 

“And pleased to make yours, Lord Derek Hale,” the man replies, bowing as well though not very deeply, Derek notices. “I am Stiles Stilinski, lord of no house.”

 

There's a strange emphasis on house, as though he might be lord of something else, although Derek couldn't begin to guess what that might be. He considers asking, but a new voice speaks up before he can come to a decision.

 

“Lord Hale, where did you disappear to?”

 

It’s Lady Blake, calling from the hallway, and Derek is surprised to see Mr Stilinski pale even further.

 

“I have to go,” he says hurriedly, stumbling backwards. “It was nice to meet you, Derek Hale.” He sketches a bow and disappears through one of the doors before Derek can return the sentiment. The last thing Derek notices before Lady Blake enters the hall, is the lingering scent of a fresh sea breeze.

 

~*~

 

Much to his family’s surprise, Derek approaches his courtship with Lady Blake with freshly awakened enthusiasm from then on. It even gets his sisters off his back about not doing this just for their sakes. Little do all of them know that it is not Lady Blake who draws him in, but the one who lives in her household but seems to be neither relative nor proper servant.

 

Stiles Stilinski has piqued Derek’s interest, even if Derek can’t explain this fascination himself. There is some mystery surrounding him that Derek wants to unravel, and then there’s the scent of the sea clinging  to him which Derek just can’t get out of his nose.

 

It takes him several visits to meet Stiles again, despite being less and less subtle about sneaking off with every subsequent calling. He even tries following the salty scent that hangs in the air long after Stiles has walked through it, but for some reason the scent is strongest in the entrance hall, even with Stiles nowhere in sight. In the end, that’s where chance has them meet again in the end.

 

Derek and his sisters are saying their goodbyes to Lady Blake when the scent of the sea suddenly intensifies, shortly before Stiles enters the hall. He comes to a sudden stop just inside the doors when he sees it is already occupied.

 

“Oh Stiles, come to look at it again, haven’t you?” Lady Blake comments, sounding mocking though Derek couldn’t begin to guess what of, and waves him closer. “Lord and Ladies Hale, this is Mr Stiles Stilinski, a _protégé_ of mine.”

 

It should be a positive sentiment, but Stiles’ salty scent sours at her words, clearly communicating his unhappiness at his status. Laura’s nostrils flare subtly, and Derek is sure she has caught the change in scent as well, especially when she replies:

 

“Oh, is he? How _noble_ of you.”

 

It is a not very subtle dig at Lady Blake, whose ancestry is respectable, but not impeccable. Her title is honorary rather than hereditary, and compared to the Hales, even marked by their lycanthropy as they are, she is lacking true noblesse. It is one of the possible explanations for Lady Blake’s interest in Derek - the opportunity to gain a real title. Even now the mention makes her clench her jaw, teeth grinding together loud enough for a werewolf’s ear to hear, and her next words are hissed rather than spoken:

 

“Nobility of the heart is what I truly strive for, Lady Hale.”

 

Her heartbeat tends to be hard to read, muffled almost, but in this case the lie creates a clearly audible stutter. Laura’s smirk makes it clear she has heard it as well, and she sinks her claws right into the wound:

 

“You’ve chosen a long and hard path then, Lady Blake, I hope your efforts will be _crowned_ with success in the end.”

 

Lady Blake straightens herself, affront clear in every line of her body, but it is actually Cora who deals the final blow:

 

“Can we leave already?” she interrupts, uncaring for protocol and politeness. “I’d hate to keep Princess Lydia waiting.”

 

The casual dismissal of Lady Blake with an unthinking reminder that the Hales run in higher circles than her, at least when it comes to friendships, is all the more cutting because it was not a calculated statement. Lady Blake’s face consequently first loses colour and then flushes red as her scent heats up with fury.

 

Not willing to risk a proper blowout, Derek hurries to say their goodbyes and then drags his sisters out before either of the three women can say anything else. The last thing he sees is Stiles standing in front of the grey fur on the wall, staring up at it as if he hadn’t even noticed the heated tempers next to him. But just before the door closes behind Derek, Stiles turns around and his eyes catch Derek for a moment, glinting in the light of the fireplace. That night, Derek dreams of the sea, and of two golden moons rising above it.

 

~*~

 

Unsurprisingly, no new invitations arrive from Blake Manor for a while after that. Derek has to admit he feels more relief than sorrow. The more frequent visits had given him a foretaste of what was to come, were he to marry Lady Blake, and that had been a reminder of why his sisters were so opposed to their match. Of course their antagonistic attitudes didn’t help things. Derek did sometimes wonder whether Lady Blake might be more pleasant in a one on one conversation, but of course those are idle thoughts - a meeting without chaperones would be utterly unthinkable. And even the few meetings where his sisters were on their best behaviour, charming and pleasant to a fault, had never filled Derek with much hope for his married life.

 

So he is in no hurry to return to Blake Manor - especially since the mystery surrounding Stiles Stilinski no longer presents a reason to go back in order to solve it.

 

Derek sees Mr Stilinski again on one of his rides along the coast. He likes riding because it's a pastime that is acceptable to spend alone and he's grateful for the reprieve from constantly being surrounded by people. Even though the  Hale household does not have many servants - another point held against them in public opinion - in a house full of werewolves, you can never truly be alone. And everywhere else it only gets worse - dozens of servants crammed together in the typical household, above the family itself in small quarters, and in town of course the commoners literally piled on top of each other, buildings rising high above narrow closes and wynds, shadows long and deep, even at midday. There the scents and sounds are almost overwhelming, cacophonic to a werewolf’s nose and ears.

 

Derek much prefers the wide outdoors, the fresh air of the sea and the calming sounds of nature. His wolf clamours to be allowed to run free through the glens, but usually Derek limits himself to a ride out, too conscious of the gossip that follows his family anyways. Were he to simply go running, the voices calling them nothing better than animals would surely get louder again. So instead he saddles Betsy, bred and broken in amongst werewolves and thus not shying away from him like other horses, and rides out. A bow strapped across his back offers an acceptable excuse - a ride out to hunt is perfectly proper behaviour in their neighbours’ eyes, even if Derek tends to return with empty hands.

 

The tracks he takes on these days out usually are so remote he doesn’t come across a living soul until he’s back home, but on one such ride, he isn’t alone on the coast. The figure is visible for miles, standing tall with arms stretched out wide, leaning into the wind, a stark contrast against the light grey sky. There’s something familiar about him, and where Derek would usually turn around and search out another route, this time he spurs on Betsy and heads directly for the figure.

 

Mr Stilinski only turns around when Derek is a few paces away, and Derek is struck by how sad he looks. There’s a grief within him that Derek can’t begin to comprehend, eyes speaking of a great loss. And still he smiles at Derek and says:

 

“Well met, Derek Hale. Have you come to admire the sea?”

 

Again he ignores conventions and refuses to use Derek’s title, but Derek doesn’t feel any anger about that. Instead he finds himself wishing to hear his name said by that voice again and again. Few people outside his family call him “Derek” and he wasn’t prepared for how it would feel to hear it said by anyone else, and in this particular voice at that.

 

“It is my pleasure, Mr Stilinski,” Derek replies after a pause, breeding winning out after all. “The sea does make for a picturesque view today.” The winds have whipped up the waves into a maelstrom, with dark troughs and frothy white crests. “Do you enjoy living on the seaside, Mr Stilinski?” Derek asks, both truly curious and casting about for a topic that will allow them a conversation beyond the mere pleasantries.

 

“Please, call me Stiles,” Mr Stilinski, no, Stiles, offers and Derek nods silently, filled with a strange warmth at the unexpected familiarity. “I do,” Stiles continues, and Derek needs a moment to even remember what his question was, “though I find myself on the wrong side now.”

 

It’s such a strange phrase - how could you find yourself on the wrong side of the seaside? What would be the right side? Surely not down in the deep? But Stiles starts talking again before Derek can begin to solve that riddle: “What about you, Derek Hale?”

 

“Just Derek, please,” Derek asks him and then replies: “I do not know which side I am on, but I enjoy living here, close to the sea, whether I’m on the right or wrong side.”

 

“You are on the right side; it’s just me that’s wrong,” Stiles returns cryptically, but quickly continues, not giving Derek a chance to ask what he means by that: “But enough of such sad thoughts. What are you out here for, Derek Hale - no, sorry - ‘just Derek’?”

 

There’s a twinkle in his eyes as he teases that makes Derek’s insides flip worryingly.

 

“Simply a ride,” he says, and Stiles tilts his head questioningly.

 

“But where to?” he asks and Derek furrows his brow.

 

“Nowhere in particular, just a ride out,” he explains and Stiles nods with the air of someone who is pretending to understand when he really doesn’t.

 

“Oh yes, that’s why you’re here with the horse and all. So you just go out and ride? To - _ride_?”

 

“Well yes,” Derek says, thrown as to how to explain riding out as a concept. “I ride out, just to ride, with no clear destination in mind. It helps me clear my head, the fresh air and just being surrounded by nature. If I can, I ride out before sunrise, to catch the first rays on the horizon. They colour the sea in soft gold and pink and especially in summer, the new morning will be greeted with a veritable concert of birds. That’s the kind of thing I ride out for.”

 

“It sounds beautiful,” Stiles breathes and Derek ducks his head to hide his heating cheeks. He’d almost forgotten someone was actually listening to him. But Stiles looks truly moved and not as if he’s mocking Derek, so Derek hesitantly suggests:

 

“You could join me for a ride if you’d like to?”

 

But Stiles shakes his head before Derek has even finished his sentence.

 

“I’d love to, but I can’t.”

 

“If you are lacking a horse, you could take one of ours, it would truly not be a problem,” Derek offers, but Stiles is already shaking his head again.

 

“That is very considerate of you, but I wouldn’t know what to do with it, so it is really for the better if I decline your kind offer, Derek Hale. It is a pity though; I sure would have enjoyed riding out with you.”

 

“You do not know how to ride?” Derek asks, filled with sudden relief that it is not him Stiles is rejecting. He hadn’t even thought of that possibility - knowing how to ride is a pretty universal knowledge in Derek’s experience, across almost all classes, and certainly widely taught in the upper classes they are circulating in, both for the lords and their servants.

 

“No, never had any reason or chance to learn how to,” Stiles shrugs, seemingly resigned that this won’t ever change, and Derek spontaneously says:  
  
“I could teach you.”

 

Stiles’ answering smile is brighter than any sunrise Derek has ever seen.

 

~*~

 

The last person Derek taught to ride was Cora and a frequently told joke in their family is that Cora was born already on horseback, so there wasn't much actual teaching required. That's very different to when it comes to teaching Stiles. Derek had noticed before that he didn't seem to be quite in control of all his limbs, sometimes stumbling around on his long legs like a newborn colt. But when it comes to riding, he truly acts like a fish out of water.

 

Stiles is not afraid of the horses, which is a relief at least, but he seems utterly at a loss as to what he's supposed to do with them. It's almost as if he's never seen anyone ride a horse before, which Derek knows isn't true. But Stiles definitely doesn't show any great familiarity with horsemanship, which is strange enough in and of itself.

 

Derek had thought to start his lessons with instructions on how to get on and off a horse, but after Stiles has almost brained himself several times in a row trying and failing to get up his horse, Derek decides to postpone this particular lesson. At least he chose a very calm horse; Lizzy just stood there patiently waiting for the humans to make up their minds whether they want up or down. With a more temperamental horse they might have had to dodge a kick or two already.

 

In the end Derek picks Stiles up and lifts him onto Lizzy. It earns him a surprised gasp and a long fingered hand clutching at his wrist. Stiles’ grip is surprisingly strong and Derek feels his pulse beating rapid fire in his veins. He stays close until Stiles’ heartbeat has calmed down somewhat, keeping his hands on Stiles’ waist as a silent promise to lift him down immediately if necessary. Stiles is warm under his hands, solid and real, and Derek can't help breathing in deeply, that by now more familiar scent of salt and waves.

 

“You better warn me next time,” Stiles gripes and Derek apologises sincerely. He hadn’t really thought of how unexpected his move might have been, simply wished to prevent any further injury from failed attempts to get up on Lizzy.

 

“It is a rather different view from here, higher up than I thought,” Stiles muses, the faintest of tremors in his voice and Derek grips his waist tighter, ready to lift him down again.

 

“Do you not enjoy heights?” he asks carefully and Stiles shrugs.

 

“I’m not scared, if that’s what you are asking, I’m simply not used to them.”

 

“More the kind to keep your feet firmly on the ground?” Derek asks, and Stiles laughs, shaking his head.

 

“Not quite that either.”

 

It doesn’t make sense to Derek, but Stiles doesn’t elaborate and Derek doesn’t know how to ask, so instead he decides to bring the conversation back to the topic at hand: Riding.

 

There’ll be a time for all of those questions. At least he hopes so.

 

~*~

 

A few weeks pass that way, with Derek meeting Stiles every few days to continue their riding lessons. He’s making great progress and Derek is already planning their first ride out together - he’s tempted to make it an early one, to show Stiles the wonder of the sunrise across the sea, but it’s probably too ambitious to send an inexperienced rider out into the dark. But either way it is not to be.

 

Derek has almost forgotten how he came to meet Stiles in the first place, until  he is forcefully reminded. First, Laura comes home foaming at the mouth because she was propositioned by “an utterly undesirable cretin”. She refuses to tell Derek who it was exactly, but he can make a few guesses. None of those men deserve to even look at his sister, never mind approach her. To know that they feel they are in a suitable position to do so, simply because Laura is not merely human, but also wolf, fills him with an impotent rage.

 

Then, Lady Blake enters the picture again.

 

She’d kept her distance since their last meeting had gone so disastrously wrong and Derek had thought that she’d decided to end her suit of him. The thought had not filled him with much sorrow.

 

But then there’d been rumours of Lady Blake being seen near the lake south of town, sopping wet and spitting mad. The old crones had grinned toothlessly and speculated whether she’d tried to wrestle with the kelpie in the lake. “She’s lucky it didn’t drown her!” they said, gloating at her misfortune.

 

Two days later Lady Blake calls upon Derek again.

 

~*~

 

Derek feels an unexpected amount of hesitation at the thought of telling Stiles about his renewed courtship with Lady Blake. It might be because he still doesn’t know what relationship exactly connects Stiles with Lady Blake, or perhaps some apprehension because Derek has never actually had to _tell_ anyone - his family has known about the courtship all along, and the rest of town had somehow learned about it almost before Derek knew about it himself. But there’s something else that tries to hold him back, a reluctance based on the worry what Stiles will think or say when he learns of this. And there’s something else, too, but Derek doesn’t know how to put that feeling into words yet.

 

But there’s no point avoiding it endlessly. Stiles lives with Lady Blake, and sooner or later he’ll learn about their renewed courtship. As reluctant as Derek is to tell him, he realises that trying to intentionally keep it a secret would only be worse.

 

So he tells him at their next riding lesson. He hadn't been able to come up with a good way to phrase it, so he just comes out and says it straight out: “Lady Blake approached me about a courtship and I've decided to accept it.”

 

Because he's a coward, he says it as Stiles is guiding Lizzy through a series of steps away from Derek. It's easier to address Stiles’ back than his face for some reason. At first it seems as though Stiles didn't even hear him, there's no outward reaction that Derek can discern; Stiles simply finishes his riding routine. But there's an uptick in his heartbeat and a spike in his scent, the salt suddenly stronger, and when he brings Lizzy to a halt in front of Derek, his face is paler than usual.

 

“Courtship?” he asks. “As in marriage? Between you and Lady Blake?”

 

Derek nods, his stomach in knots. “She is of impeccable standing,” he tries to justify, and Stiles raises an eyebrow in silent judgement.

 

“Is that why you wish to marry her?” he questions and Derek defends himself: “It is a valid concern and reason.”

 

“Oh.” Stiles’ face falls. “I didn't realise you cared so much for that.”

 

He ducks his head, but with him still on Lizzy and Derek standing beneath Derek can clearly see how long lashes flutter shut across suddenly shamed eyes. He suddenly remembers that Stiles himself has no discernible rank as far as Derek has been able to tell. He seems to be little more than a mere commoner and Derek's words must sound as if he's denouncing any knowledge of Stiles.

 

Impulsively, he reaches out and grabs Stiles’ hand which is still holding onto Lizzy’s reins.

 

“No, that's not what I meant,” he insists, desperate to make Stiles understand. “I do not care for rank or standing, I look at no man differently for it, but I cannot deny that it plays a part in my courtship of Lady Blake.”

 

Stiles’ face had smoothed out, showing no more sign of his inner turmoil, but his scent is still sharp and his heartbeat out of control.

 

“Do you love her?” he asks, seeming as though he couldn't care for Derek's answer either way, but under Derek's thumb his pulse is fluttering like a bird's wing.

 

Derek hesitates before answering. He knows what he should say, but even though Stiles wouldn't be able to hear his heartbeat jump on the lie it wouldn't feel right to deceive him so. But it seems Derek waited too long for Stiles starts to pull away as if Derek's silence was enough of an answer for him. Derek tightens his hold on Stiles’ hand and finally says: “I do not.”

 

Stiles’ eyes roam his face as if trying to catch him out in a lie, so Derek tries to keep his face as open and honest as he can. After a moment Stiles’ shoulders slump and he lets out a sigh.

 

“Gimme a hand, will you,” he says and Derek stares at him uncomprehendingly for a heartbeat until he realises that Stiles wants some help dismounting. Gently he wraps his hands around Stiles’ waist and lifts him down. It brings them far too close together, but Stiles doesn't move backward, and stays in Derek's personal space instead.

 

“Why would you marry someone you don't love?” he asks quietly and Derek says helplessly: “Because of her standing,” - making Stiles roll his eyes and mutter: “Oh, so we're back to that.”

 

“And because she is willing to marry me,” Derek adds, imploring Stiles to understand.

“Who wouldn't want to marry you?” Stiles asks indignantly, and Derek's face warms.

 

“Most people,” he returns, continuing over Stiles’ outraged spluttering: “And only the worst of the worst are looking at my sisters. If my loveless marriage can give them a chance at happiness, I'll gladly marry for standing instead of love.”

 

Stiles has a strange look in his eyes, one that makes Derek's insides flutter and his breath get stuck in his throat. But then Stiles blinks and the spell is broken.

 

Stepping back from Derek finally, Stiles shakes his head and says: “Standing as a cause for marriage. Humans have to make everything so complicated.”

 

Strangely enough he doesn't seem to include himself in that.

 

~*~

 

Derek's courtship with Lady Blake continues where it stopped last time - with awkward meetings and impolite sisters. It seems now that the courtship has been renewed, both of his sisters more than renewed their attempts in turn to sabotage it. Laura in particular seems even madder about it now, talking about betrayals and following the head instead of the heart. Derek can’t even begin to understand what she’s trying to get at. But unlike last time, Lady Blake does not let herself be provoked by Laura's taunts or Cora’s franker insults.

 

In fact, she seems almost desperate to bring the courtship to its natural conclusion as quickly as possible. She smiles blandly at Laura and Cora, no matter what they say, and simpers at Derek when he so much as opens his mouth. And when none of the Hale siblings says anything, she speaks her thoughts - or demands rather. And before Derek knows it, a date has been set.

 

It makes everything terribly real and Derek is suddenly plagued with doubts. Each visit to Blake Manor is an insight into what married life is going to be for him and it does not fill him with confidence. Any lingering sliver of hope has now died that if the marriage does not come to being out of love, love might still grow out of the marriage. Derek and Lady Blake won’t be able to make each other happy - their best chance will be to stay as far away from each other as possible in this sham of a marriage to come.

 

And where Derek looks at his sisters, Laura’s stubbornly set mouth and Cora’s defiant gaze, and knows why he’s willing to suffer that for the rest of his life, the question becomes increasingly insistent in his mind, why Lady Blake does not just accept that fate, but pursues it even. For Derek does not live under any misconception that she bears any love for him. And still she is the one to push ever more to move things along, and Derek sees no other option but to bow to her will.

 

Through all of this, he finds himself wishing to talk to Stiles again and again, but increasingly, Stiles has been distancing himself and Derek can’t understand why. Stiles has excused himself for their riding lessons, or simply not turned up, and Derek has had no luck finding him in Blake Manor either. It’s almost as if the earth had swallowed him up - as suddenly as he’d entered Derek’s life, as suddenly he’s gone from it again. Derek can’t help wondering whether he did anything wrong, whether Stiles is avoiding him because Derek has offended him somehow. Stiles hadn’t been overjoyed at the news of Derek’s impending marriage with Lady Blake, but Derek had thought he’d understood after Derek explained his reasoning.

 

Apparently not, though.

 

Derek tries talking to Lady Blake about Stiles once, but it becomes clear very quickly that she does not care for him in the slightest. It’s another on a long list of mysteries connected to him - why does he seem to stay with someone who is of no relation to him and who does not employ him, nor even like him? What keeps him there?

 

Ideally he’d ask Stiles that himself, but that’s not possible of course, as long as Stiles is still playing hide and seek.

 

Derek finds himself standing in Lady Blake’s entrance hall whenever he can, staring up at the grey seal pelt, because the same scent of sea and salt lingers here that defines Stiles. It calls back memories of stories his mother used to tell him and his sisters, of other shapeshifters, not just wolves. He’d thought they’d all been just that - stories, but something tells him to go looking for the book of tales they were from again. Perhaps a myth is what he needs to solve the mystery of Stiles Stilinski. And it is as good a distraction as any from his ever more rapidly approaching nuptials.

 

The Hales’ library is vast and varied, containing everything from texts on law, over histories of peoples long gone to romances that Derek used to sneak into his room as a teenager. He’d always liked those stories of overcoming differences and misunderstandings through love much more than the tales of war and glory that filled the histories. Cora had enjoyed those and loved to tease him about his preferences, while Laura had rolled her eyes at them both and stuck her nose back into her law books.

 

But the book of tales is nowhere to be found. Derek’s mother comes across him neck deep in the gardening book section and simply lifts an eyebrow in silent question.

 

“I am looking for a book,” Derek says stiffly, and his mother smiles.

 

“Can I help you with that?” she asks, heartbeat steady and no judgement in her scent. Derek huffs and gives in.

 

“I wanted to reread the stories about shapeshifters you used to tell us. I’ve been trying to remember if some were able to turn into seals.”

 

“Oh, you mean the selkies!” his mother replies and waves him over to come sit in the bright window seat with her. It reminds Derek of when they all used to squeeze together here, him and Laura on either side of their mother, Cora on her lap. It’s a tight fit now, even with just the two of them, but Derek has grown quite a bit as the years have passed. He just breathes in the scent of his mother, though, and relishes in the closeness to his Alpha.

 

“There are shapeshifters all over the world,” Talia starts. “Some are cursed, others enchanted, some transform simply out of force of will and anger - it is said some frogs even turn into princes!” she says with a grin and a gentle rub of her hand across Derek’s head, spreading her scent. Derek groans at her teasing reference to his love for romances, but presses into her touch nevertheless.

 

“I never even liked the Frog King,” he mutters and Talia laughs.

 

“If you say so. But you wanted to hear about selkies, didn’t you?” She pauses for a moment, as if collecting her thoughts, then starts, more serious than before: “I’ve never met a selkie and I’ve never talked to anyone who has either, so I cannot say for sure that they truly exist. If they do, they seem to have forgone humanity long ago and hidden deep beneath the waves. But they’ve left us stories. Most are about the cruelty of man, telling of selkies clobbered down, of pelts stolen, but they teach us much about the selkies in general - and hopefully some humility and compassion, too.”

 

Her scent turns slightly sour for a moment, but sweetens again before Derek can decide whether to say anything.

 

“Selkies are born shapeshifters like us, not enchanted or cursed. But unlike with werewolves, selkies can only be born, not turned through bite or scratch or anything like that. In some stories humans are somehow turned into seals, but it is always temporary, not a true transformation into a selkie. There is no beta shift with selkies, no partial transformation, only the full shift between human and seal. Except where our shift between forms leaves nothing behind, and is triggered through power and control, a selkie’s shift is dependent on their seal pelt. When a selkie shifts from seal to human form, the pelt remains behind and only by putting it on can they shift back.”

 

Derek thinks of the grey pelt in Lady Blake’s entrance hall and swallows hard. With his voice slightly hoarse, he asks:

 

“What if the pelt gets stolen?”

 

“Then the selkie is stuck in their human form,” his mother replies gravely and Derek's chest tightens painfully.

 

“Can’t they steal it back?” he asks, but he knows the answer even before his mother shakes her head.

 

“A stolen selkie pelt will never hold its full potential power; it'll be a mere perversion of itself. It'll give the wearer some of the powers and abilities of a selkie, like being able to hold their breath for an extended period of time under water or just simply knowing how to swim. But the full shift will be utterly unachievable with a stolen pelt. The only hope a selkie whose pelt was stolen has, is to have it gifted back to them. A pelt gifted out of truly free will is the only way to pass on the full powers of a selkie. Some stories say a pelt not just freely given, but gifted with love gives its wearer extra powers, more so if that love is returned.”

 

Her eyes are knowing when she looks at Derek and he finds his face heating with a hot blush. But thankfully she doesn't comment on it and just ends her speech with:

 

“That is all I know about selkies from stories and none of our books can tell you anything beyond it either, so for everything else you'll have to ask an actual selkie.”

 

She winks at him and then presses a kiss to Derek's forehead. “Listen to your heart, my son,” she whispers, and Derek doesn't know whether she's still talking about selkies or about his upcoming marriage to Lady Blake or something else entirely, but he promises nevertheless: “I'll try,” knowing it's the best he can do without being forced to lie.

 

“That's all any of us can ever do,” his mother replies and gets up. “Try to follow our hearts and hope our heart's desire will be returned.”

 

~*~

 

With his mother's words echoing in his mind, Derek decides to renew his efforts to find Stiles and speak with him. He's making plans on how to distract Lady Blake and his sisters long enough to track Stiles through Blake Manor by scent, but thankfully all of that turns out to be unnecessary. Because for the first time in weeks, Stiles seeks him out again.

 

Derek is out for a ride early in the morning, chased away from home by the wedding preparations that have spilled over from Blake Manor to Hale Manor, and is almost at the cliff where he met Stiles once upon a time when a shadow jumps in front of his horse, making Betsy rear up. Derek has his hands full with calming her down again for a few heart-stopping moments, and it’s only when Betsy is no longer attempting to throw him off and run to safety that he recognises the sea salt scent and the rapidly fluttering heartbeat.

 

“Stiles!” he exclaims, dismounting hurriedly. “Are you okay? What were you thinking? You could have been hurt!”

 

There’s no hint of pain in Stiles’ scent, but Derek still can’t help making sure once he has secured Betsy. He grabs Stiles gently by the shoulders and first checks him over with his eyes as well as nose and then carefully pats him down with his hands, too, just to be on the safe side. Surprisingly enough, Stiles holds still for Derek’s admittedly over cautious examination, though he catches hold of Derek’s hands when they stray too close to Stiles’ waist. He squeezes gently, and says firmly:

 

“I’m fine, Derek, I’ve not been hurt. I’m sorry to ambush you so, but I need to talk to you.”

 

“Talk? Why didn’t you simply call on me?” Derek asks, more than a little baffled. “Wouldn’t that have been easier than waiting here? And how did you even know I’d come riding out this morning?”

 

“I didn’t,” Stiles admits. “I’ve been waiting here three mornings in a row, hoping to see you. But call upon you? Who am I to call upon you, Lord Derek Hale?”

 

“You are Stiles,” Derek says, bewildered by the sudden change in Stiles. His eyes are blazing and his scent reminds Derek of a hurricane at sea, waves whipped up high by merciless winds.

 

“Yes, I am Stiles,” Stiles interrupts him, anger radiating off him, though Derek has a feeling it’s not actually directed at him. He just ended up being a convenient target - that doesn’t make it easier to be battered by the storm, though. “Stiles Stilinski, of no house or title to my name, no rank and no standing, and you’ve made it abundantly clear how important those are to you, Lord Derek Hale. How could I call upon you?”

 

“You could have called upon me as a friend,” Derek says, desperately trying to find the right words. “For that is what I hope we are. I do not choose my friends by their ranks or families, nor do I judge them for that.”

 

“But you choose your spouse by those criteria,” Stiles returns, sadness suddenly dominating over anger, his scent like a calm sea again, but the kind of calm that hides treacherous depths. “I know why you’ve chosen Lady Blake, even if I cannot fully understand it, but Derek, please listen to me: you can’t marry her!”

 

“If this is another attempt to convince me I have to marry for love -” Derek starts, the earlier shock and concern for Stiles turning into annoyance, but Stiles shakes his head before he can finish.

 

“No, I’ve long given up on that,” he says, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’m not trying to save your heart, I’m trying to save your life!”

 

“From Lady Blake?” Derek asks, baffled. Sure, there’s those rumours of her being a witch, and she can get a look in her eyes that makes cold shivers run down his back, but ultimately he’s still a werewolf and it takes a lot to bring him down. Wolfsbane is pretty much the only thing guaranteed to work and he has smelled no hint of it anywhere near Blake Manor. And why should Lady Blake bother to marry him only to kill him?

 

He asks that question out loud and Stiles throws up his arms in exasperation.

 

“How should I know? Perhaps she thinks she’ll be able to make it look more like an accident when you’re married. But I do know this much - she’s after your hide. _Literally_.”

 

Derek swallows and remembers the seal pelt brazenly displayed in Lady Blake’s entrance hall which smells so like Stiles.

 

Stiles seems to take his silence as doubt, though, because he keeps going:

 

“Derek, she wants to _kill_ you for your pelt, for the strength it’d give her. You are capable of the full shift, aren’t you? That’s what she’s after - the fur of your wolf. And I don’t think she cares much for anything else but that when it comes to you. You cannot marry her - it’d mean certain death!”

 

“Strength from my pelt?” Derek replies dumbly, because that doesn’t make sense. His strength is not caught in his fur; you could shave it all off and he’d still be strong. Surely Stiles must have misunderstood something there.

 

“She assumes that the wolf’s fur will give her the wolf’s strength,” Stiles explains, slightly less frantic now that he seems satisfied Derek is actually listening to him.

 

“Like a selkie’s pelt?” Derek asks unthinkingly and then has to watch as Stiles flinches backwards.

 

“How did you know?” he whispers, body taut as a bowstring, as if ready to run if Derek gives the wrong answer.

 

“I didn’t, not for sure.” Derek stretches out a hand beseechingly and to his relief Stiles takes it for a brief moment and squeezes it, though his shoulders still remain tight. “My mother used to tell me stories about selkies, about their love for both land and sea, and how the moon blessed them to be able to live in both worlds. I’d always loved the idea of other shifters; it made me feel less alone and different? I’d almost forgotten about them, but then you came into my life. And your scent - you smell of the sea, salt and water combined, and that pelt in Lady Blake’s entrance hall holds the same scent. I’m sorry; I was going to ask you or even wait for you to mention anything, not just blurt it out like that.”

 

“I wanted to tell you,” Stiles says, reaching out to grab Derek’s hand this time. “I knew you’d understand me, wouldn’t despise me, but the moment never seemed right and I didn’t know how to say it. And anyways, I don’t even know if I’m still a selkie - I lost my coat, doesn’t that make me nothing more than a mere human now?”

 

His scent turns even saltier than usual, but with unshed tears instead of the salt of the sea this time and Derek helplessly squeezes his hand in a silent attempt at comfort. Stiles clings back to him and Derek has to swallow back tears of his own when he tries to understand what Stiles is going through. He cannot imagine losing his wolf - it is an intricately connected part of him, not separate from the human side, just as the seal surely was for Stiles. To lose that entirely… And in Stiles’ case it presumably went hand in hand with the loss of his entire family and friends, too.

 

“We’ll get your coat back,” he vows, fiercely resolved, but to his surprise, Stiles shakes his head.

 

“There's no point,” he says. “Why do you think she's been keeping it in the entrance hall instead of locking it away somewhere safe? She knows it is lost to me, even if I stole it back, but this way she can flaunt it.”

 

“How did she happen to come across it anyways?” Derek asks while silently promising himself that he'll find a way to give Stiles back his coat with all its powers.

 

Stiles laughs, but it is not a joyful sound.

 

“I gave it to her, would you imagine that? She promised me help in return and to gift it back once she had no need of it anymore. To this day the latter definitely hasn't happened and I don't even know if she honoured the former. You must think me so stupid and naive.”

 

His voice breaks on the last sentence and Derek impulsively draws him into a hug, momentarily afraid that Stiles will shy away, but he just sighs and sinks into Derek's embrace, clutching at the back of his woollen coat.

 

“I don't think you are stupid,” Derek says quietly once Stiles’ breathing no longer threatens to turn into sobs any moment and the sour notes lift a little in his scent. “But say, what did she promise you help with? Perhaps I can help somehow, even if she did not hold true to her promise?”

 

When Stiles shakes his head this time, the tip of his nose tickles Derek's neck.

 

“It is very kind of you to offer, but even if you were able to help, if Lady Blake did not uphold her promise, then any help would now come too late anyways.”

 

He finally breaks Derek's hold, but takes his hand before Derek can move away and directs them both to sit on a boulder a few steps away.

 

“My mother loved the stars,” Stiles starts, head tilted back to look up at the sky even though the sun has long risen and no stars are visible. “She'd swim to the surface just to look at them, uncaring that it's safer far beneath the waves for us. She used to take me with her, teaching me the constellations and the legends behind them. We usually kept far from the shore and any ships, but sometimes, we'd swim closer. She told me about life on land and how there's not just humans, but also other shapeshifters up here. It was all utterly fascinating to me and I begged her to tell me more and more, even if I didn't understand everything and couldn't imagine some things at all. Like wolves! I still don't know what those look like! My mother said they were similar to dogs, but that can't be right, can it?”

 

Derek thinks of the tiny ankle biter which Lady Blake keeps as a lapdog and growls: “I do not look like a dog!”

 

“What do you look like then?” Stiles asks and though his eyes are wide with guileless innocence, the challenge is clear and Derek is defenceless to resist it. Getting up, he starts unbuttoning his top coat and warns:

 

“You might want to avert your eyes.”

 

He could just turn around himself, but it is far more exciting to hold Stiles’ eyes with his own as he removes layer after layer. A faint blush colours Stiles’ cheeks pink and it offsets the golden colour of his eyes even more than usual. He doesn’t look away from Derek until Derek’s hands touch the lacing of his trousers. Then he eeps embarrassedly and twists away from Derek, who can now no longer see Stiles’ face, but just his brightly burning ears. Derek’s own face is warm, and he’s surprised at his boldness. He’s never been so forward ever before, and had Stiles’ scent not been hot and spicy with excitement, he might have worried more about offending him. Nudity isn’t a foreign concept to Derek, you get used to seeing people in various stages of undress growing up in a werewolf family, but so far it’s always been inconsequential, not something to play with, to tease with even. As it is, Derek has to breathe in deeply a few times and concentrate in order to be able to transform.

 

It always takes a moment to figure out all of his limbs when in this form and to remember the tail. When he settles down on his haunches and looks up, Stiles is staring at him, but thankfully not in fright, as Derek half-feared, but in something more akin to awe. Derek huffs and tilts his head and Stiles scrambles off the boulder to stand in front of him, hesitantly stretching out a hand. He stops just before touching Derek, hand hovering in the air above Derek’s head and so Derek pushes upwards until he feels Stiles’ long fingers timidly carding through his fur.

 

“It’s so soft,” Stiles says wonderingly, hands touching more confidently now, gliding in broad strokes across Derek’s back, tugging playfully at his ears, even venturing curiously towards Derek’s mouth when he teasingly bares his fangs in a silent snarl. He remains occupied with Derek’s form for a while, lifting his tail, counting his toes and claws, rubbing Derek’s fur against the grain and marvelling at the way it sticks up afterwards. Eventually he settles down next to Derek, leaning against him slightly and starts talking again.

 

“I’m the one who killed my mother,” he says tonelessly. “I asked her, begged her to swim closer to the shore, to let me walk on land. Be careful what you wish for, right?” His laugh is a painful mockery of true joy and Derek whines in response. Stiles buries his face in Derek’s fur for a moment and then keeps going. It’s as though he finds it easier to talk now that Derek is in his wolf form, the words coming more rapidly, almost stumbling over each other in Stiles’ apparent haste to get them out.

 

“One night, she gave in. We swam to the shore, hiding between the waves from the few ships that were still out, heading for those twinkling lights that fascinated me so. We found a little bay some ways off, with a softly rising beach instead of sharp cliffs and we shed our pelts there. Oh, how proud was I to walk on two legs! To feel the sand beneath my toes! I didn’t want to put on my pelt again, too keen to feel the wind on my bare skin. I was running across the beach, trying to jump as high as I could, and I never realised that someone had come. My mother did, and she realised that our pelts were in danger of being stolen. She pulled hers on, and with me too far away, decided to distract the men that had come, lure them away from my pelt. And I had to watch how one of those men suddenly raised a club and clobbered my mother. My yelling and screaming drove them away, but it also drew Lady Blake near and to this day I don’t know if I should be grateful for that or not. She promised me to heal my mother, if only I gave her my coat. And if I worked for her, she’d give it back to me once she had no need of it anymore. What choice did I have? I gave her my pelt, she spoke some words and drew some runes, and then my mother disappeared beneath the waves. I threw myself in after her, but without my pelt I almost drowned and barely made it back to shore, none the wiser as to whether she lived or died. I’ve been living with Lady Blake ever since. Without my coat I no longer know how to swim; I have no way of contacting my family, of finding out whether my mother’s still alive, and if Lady Blake decides that she’ll forever have need of my coat, this will never change. Now you know the sad story of Stiles Stilinski.”

 

Defeat is clear in the tone of his voice and every line of his body, his scent dull and stale, and Derek shakes off the wolf, because this requires hands and words, not just warm fur and fuzzy, open ears. Stiles loses his balance when his support disappears, but Derek is ready for that, catching him with an arm wrapped around his shoulder, uncaring about his own nudity. But he needs to be able to look into Stiles’ eyes for this, so he stands up and pulls Stiles up with him, holding onto his hands even when they are both upright again.

 

“I will do everything in my power and more to give you back your coat,” he promises fiercely. “You won’t be stranded on land for the rest of your life, not when you are meant to crest the waves of the sea, when you’ve been robbed such. And whatever the fate of your mother, it is not your fault. You could not know it would happen, did not wish for it to happen, tried your hardest to undo it, so do not let yourself be crushed under undeserved guilt. I’m sure, were your mother here she’d tell you the same.”

 

He doesn’t continue for a few moments, to let silence lend weight to his words, holding Stiles’ gaze with his own until he’s sure his words have at least been received, if not yet believed. Then he squeezes Stiles’ hands gently and asks:

 

“Now tell me what Lady Blake needs both of our furs for and how we can stop her.”

 

~*~

 

So it turns out, that all the rumours are true and Lady Blake is actually a witch.

 

A witch with much greater aspirations, it seems, powerful already but hungry for ever more power. There are various ways to gain more power, some well-known and still nothing more than a myth like the eating innocent children one, others more obscure, like draughts brewed from a new-born’s blood and an expecting mother’s milk but all of these only allow for a limited boost in power. To achieve truly impressive heights, you need to perform rituals.

 

Some are impossible in this day and age - no dragon has been seen in at least a century and the dragon's blood that gets sold by questionable apothecaries and the like rarely turns out to be more magical than oxblood. So those rituals promising eternal life or the power of a thousand suns, but using a dragon’s blood or claws or scales are out of the question. But even if dragons are no longer available, a creature of magic still offers the prime ingredients for a ritual, and magic has not fled the land entirely yet.

 

For the ritual Lady Blake is planning, she needs a kelpie - notoriously ruthless water creatures in the shape of a horse, who will drown anyone who dares to approach them. There are only a few tales of people trying to take on kelpies, and they rarely end well for them. Even when you unexpectedly survive the encounter and catch one, you'll most likely end up cursed for life, and so will your children, and your children's children along with you - though admittedly the Lord of Morphie deserved his fate. All in all, it's clear that taking on a kelpie is sheer madness and guaranteed to fail.

 

That's what Lady Blake needs Derek and Stiles for apparently. The ritual she has chosen promises her more power than any living user of magic currently holds, but it demands a kelpie’s hooves for that - a kelpie you have caught and killed with your own two hands. This is a feat that'd be impossible, were Lady Blake to rely just on her own powers. The kelpie would simply draw her underwater and drown her if she tried. That’s what she needs Stiles’ pelt for, allowing her to swim quicker than the kelpie and to hold her breath underwater long enough. The rumours of her rising from the kelpie’s lake wet and mad, but alive, show that the powers of a selkie have at least partly been transferred to her with the coat. That she came out alive, but not victorious from that clash also shows that simply being able to survive in the water is not enough to catch a kelpie.

 

Like Stiles said, Lady Blake believes that Derek’s fur will give her a werewolf’s strength, and marrying him before skinning him is an apparent necessity that neither Derek nor Stiles has been able to understand yet. That leaves Derek with a dilemma.

 

For himself, the solution seems clear: breaking the engagement to Lady Blake and simply not marrying her. She might attempt to go after him anyways, but that seems unlikely, and either way, he’d then be forewarned and no longer being in close, private quarters with her, would  not give her many opportunities to attack him.

 

But that still leaves Stiles at her mercy with no way out and Derek shudders to think what perfidious plan she might be coming up with next and how that might affect Stiles. So that's not at all an option.

 

In addition to thwarting Lady Blake’s plans, there is also the question of how to get Stiles his coat back. Derek has every intention of upholding his promise, but unfortunately he has no idea how to go about it.

 

As if all of this wasn't enough, his sisters have both been acting strange lately. Laura has been reading books on marine life and seals especially, loudly discussing her findings whenever Derek’s in earshot. She seems particularly fascinated by the mating rituals of seals and keeps dropping little tidbits whether they fit into the conversation or not. Derek doesn’t know what has drawn her to the topic but he always has to think of Stiles whenever she starts talking about seals. Imagining Stiles rolling, blowing bubbles or waving his flippers is an amusing thought, while the fact that seals apparently enjoy embraces and mouthing and biting at necks leaves Derek more flustered than he’d like to admit.

 

Cora on the other hand has lately been away from home frequently, often enough without anyone knowing where she is. Laura's claim that she isn't sure what's going on was no lie, but Derek is convinced it wasn't the whole truth either. He has long ago learned, though, that if his sisters decide to band together, there's no getting between them. If Laura knows anything, she will not break Cora’s confidence.

 

The only thing that stops Derek from spying on Cora to make sure nothing untoward is going on is their mother's calmness. Nothing happens under Talia Hale’s roof without her knowledge and if whatever's going on is not enough to raise her concern, then there's no need for Derek to worry either. Worry he does anyways of course, but that's par for the course for a big brother, so he tries to put the mystery of Cora out of his mind as much as he can.

 

She seems to be happy at least, her scent warm and bright whenever Derek talks to her. There's a faint hint of parchment and roses that clings to her sometimes, tickling Derek's nose because that scent is familiar but he simply can't place it. It’s particularly strong when Derek and his sisters call upon Lady Blake for what might well be the last time before the wedding. It has been set for a week from now and so far, Derek has not stopped the proceedings, still hoping for that stroke of genius that will tell him how to fix everything.

 

It comes to him as they are taking their leave from Lady Blake in the entrance hall, making awkward conversation about wedding gifts. When his eyes fall upon Stiles’ pelt being so blatantly displayed above the fireplace, he sees a chance to fix Stiles’ lot in life at least and takes it.

 

“My wish for a wedding gift would be that gorgeous sealskin you have up there,” he says, aiming for nonchalant though he’s sure he misses it by a mile. Thankfully Laura jumps in before anyone else - Derek doesn’t know if she suspects anything or if she’s just happy to take any opportunity to provoke Lady Blake, but he’s hoping it’ll work in his favour either way.

 

“Oh yes, that’d make a beautiful coat!” Laura exclaims and Derek agrees: “It’d make a warm pair of boots, too, that’s for sure.” He silently apologises to Stiles, but it’s not as if he’s actually planning to turn Stiles’ pelt into a pair of boots.

 

“You’ll let him have it, won’t you?” Laura asks, the picture of innocence. “After all, it’s just a sealskin, you can always get a new one.” Derek has to concentrate on keeping his face neutral, because that sounded like Laura knows far more about what’s going on than Derek realised.

 

“Yes, of course,” Lady Blake says with a smile that reveals far too many teeth to be friendly. “The sealskin is yours if you want it. If it makes you happy, I’ll gladly part with it.” Her heartbeat stutters on the lie, but even if Derek had not been able to hear that, it would have been obvious that she’s only saying this under duress. She simply doesn’t want to give Derek an opportunity to make more demands or to call the wedding off entirely.

 

Derek has gotten all he wanted for the moment, though, so he just smiles back at her blandly and then steps forward to reach for the pelt. But that was too forward apparently, because Lady Blake quickly moves between him and the sealskin, smile even sharper than before.

 

“Oh no, if it’s to be a wedding gift, you’ll have to wait until after the wedding, otherwise it would surely bring you bad luck!”

 

Derek opens his mouth to protest, but Laura grabs him by the arm, a hint of claws in her grip and says sweetly:

 

“Now that’s only sensible, _isn’t it_ , _Derek_? We want this marriage to be blessed, not cursed. You’ll have to excuse us now, Lady Blake, so much still left to do, you know how it is! Thank you for your hospitality! The next time we meet, we might already be family!”

 

Only Laura could make that sound like a threat. But she doesn’t give Lady Blake any chance to react, dragging out Derek before he can think of making another attempt at taking full possession of Stiles’ pelt. He’ll have to hope that verbal passing on is enough for the magic that decides whether a pelt has been willingly given away or not.

 

Laura doesn’t let go of Derek until they are in the carriage, flashing her eyes at him when he doesn’t move quickly enough for her liking. She’s not an alpha yet, but she’s the alpha-in-training and Derek knows when to choose his battles. Cora follows behind the two of them, confusion colouring her scent. At least she waits until they’ve moved off Lady Blake’s property before she demands:

 

“What was that about? Since when are you interested in sealskin, Derek? And why did you back him up, Laura?”

 

“I think Derek’s interest is more in seals,” Laura says slyly, and Derek feels his ears heat up. Laura knows _something_ at least, that much is clear. But thankfully she doesn’t spill the beans, but just tells Cora: “And now stop prying, squirt, I’m keeping your secret and I’ll keep Derek’s secret, too.”

 

Suddenly distracted, Derek exclaims: “I knew you were keeping a secret!”

 

Cora blushes and Laura rolls her eyes: “Everyone and their dog knows she’s keeping a secret, Derek, the only difference is that _some people_ are observant and know what’s going on.”

 

“And it’s not going to be a secret much longer, I promise,” Cora insists and then adds, whining slightly: “So tell me what’s going on, pleeeease?”

 

“It’s not really my secret to tell,” Derek says, squirming slightly. He’s just glad that Laura hasn’t started interrogating him yet; Cora he can deal with at least. She keeps needling him for information, but he manages to divert her with some half-truths and other evasive answers, ignoring Laura’s sly digs all the while, until they are home. Then he makes a run for it and escapes their clutches, mind already occupied with how he’s going to tell Stiles that his pelt hopefully belongs to Derek now.

 

~*~

 

That evening, a letter arrives from Blake Manor for Derek, but to his surprise, it’s not from Lady Blake. It comes from Stiles - asking Derek to come meet him that night. It doesn’t state any reason, but reading between the lines, Derek thinks that Stiles somehow learnt of Derek’s actions today. Perhaps he’s now finally willing to risk stealing the pelt and running away from Lady Blake. It would certainly ease Derek’s mind to know that Stiles is no longer under her control and thus in constant danger, so if he can help, he will.

 

There’s a tiny voice in his head that questions whether he should blindly believe the authenticity of the letter, but his nose smells that familiar scent of salt and sea, which is more telling than any signature or sigil. This letter has to have come from Stiles to be so saturated with his scent and as Derek has no reason at all to mistrust him, so he ignores that questioning voice, even if it sounds a little like his mother.

 

The ride out to Blake Manor goes much quicker than the carriage, even though the evening is already late and the sun has long set. The light of the moon illuminates the paths, though, pale and cold, but still shining brightly. The moon itself is full, round and huge in the sky and coloured a dark red, a blood moon his grandmother used to call them. Perfect for great as well as terrible deeds. Derek's thoughts are a mess of exhilarated hope that this is it, that Stiles will be free soon, and an indefinite fear that something will go wrong, that something's not quite right even now.

 

Unfortunately his instinct proves to be right, because when he arrives there's no Stiles waiting for him in front of Blake Manor. Instead, the door is standing open invitingly, the flickering light from the fireplace spilling out into the courtyard. Derek can neither hear nor smell the fire, though. It's so obvious a trap as to be almost insulting. His nose tells him Stiles is in there, though, catching a hint of that familiar scent of sea and salt, and that means he’s in danger. No doubt because of Derek's actions earlier this day, so he has no choice but to walk right through the door and hope he'll be able to keep the trap from snapping shut.

 

The first thing he notices as he steps into the entrance hall is the sudden wall of sound and scent he is confronted with. With his ears straining to hear anything just a moment ago, even the crackling of the fire is unbearably loud for a moment until Derek is able to control his senses again. There must have been some kind of magical block that numbed his senses before. Without it, the scent of Stiles’ fear and fury is overwhelming, a roaring sea that'll submerge anyone who dares near her.

 

It is an impotent fury, though, Derek realises, Stiles caught in bonds next to the fireplace, restrained and gagged, eyes blazing when he looks at Lady Blake and beseeching when he looks at Derek. There's no time for Derek to figure out whether Stiles is silently asking him to flee or to fight, because Lady Blake starts speaking, stepping out of the shadows she was hid in before. With disgust, Derek realises that she's wearing Stiles’ pelt, thrown around her shoulders as if it were nothing more than a sheepskin.

 

“How nice of you to join us, Lord Hale,” she says sweetly, the formality a stark contrast to the reality of the situation. “Don't worry about Stiles, no harm needs to come to him, if you cooperate. If you don't, well-" She lifts a hand and the light of the fire glints off the blade of a wicked looking dagger.

 

“What do you want from us?” Derek demands, desperate to keep her talking, to buy more time, though for what he doesn't yet know. Behind Lady Blake Stiles has started moving, wriggling around and tugging at his bonds, though Derek doesn't see much hope of him getting free; the ropes look pretty tight.

 

“Just a little hair,” Lady Blake says, twirling the dagger playfully. “You'll barely notice a thing.”

 

Derek remembers that Stiles said she wanted to skin Derek, pull off his fur entirely, and suppresses a shudder.

 

“Why now?” he asks, trying to appear oblivious as to what's really going on. “Why not wait until we're married, what's mine is yours then anyways and I would have gladly given you a strand of hair, if you'd asked for it.”

 

It's not a lie, if he knew for sure it'd save Stiles, he'd even give his whole fur.

 

“Your little stunt earlier decided me,” Lady Blake says. “I couldn't risk you pulling anything else and then I thought - Why wait any longer when I can just as well do it now? And the blood moon makes for such a fitting setting, does it not?”

 

She spreads her arms in a grand gesture, striking an imposing figure backlit by the red moon visible in the window behind her, but Derek is no longer focusing on her - Stiles is slippery as a fish apparently and has managed to free himself from his bonds somehow. He's currently making short work of his gag, the only rope left now is around his ankles, but Lady Blake seems to suspect something and starts to turn around. Desperate, Derek snarls and throws himself at her. Before he can touch her, though, she grabs a handful of what turns out to be mountain ash from an open urn on the mantle and throws it in a circle around him, entrapping him.

 

“Worried about your pet?” she taunts. “Don't fret, I'll get to him soon enough.”

 

“He's not a pet!” Derek retorts, outraged in Stiles’ stead, but Lady Blake just laughs.

 

“Oh no, he's a wild animal, isn't he? But you would know all about that, right, Lord Hale?”

 

Derek growls in response to that, fully aware that he's half shifted and thus proving her right. But it keeps her eyes on him instead of Stiles, who has finally escaped his bonds entirely. Derek hopes he'll run away, save himself and perhaps get help, but instead, Stiles copies Lady Blake, grabbing a handful of mountain ash and throwing it at her.

 

To Derek’s surprise it forms a circle, a little wobbly perhaps, but a circle nonetheless, one unbroken line all around her. He doesn't expect it to work, but when Lady Blake whirls around, she slams against an invisible barrier.

 

“You!” she shouts, surprise warring with rage in her scent. “What have you done? You can't trap me!”

 

“Can’t I?” Stiles shrugs. “Looks like I did, though. What are you going to do about it?”

 

He's appearing almost completely unruffled at the fact that he was bound and gagged just a few moments ago, but Derek can hear his heart hammering away in his chest and how his scent is sharp with anxiety and anger. To Lady Blake he appears calm, though, and it seems to send her into a frothing rage. Throwing off Stiles’ pelt finally, she straightens to her full height, lifts her hands and starts chanting.

 

An unnatural wind blows through the hall, lifting her skirts and making Derek's hair stand on end. The fire blazes brighter and as the wind picks up, trinkets start falling off the mantle and rolling around. The only thing that remains undisturbed is the mountain ash, one circle around Derek and another around Lady Blake, the two almost touching each other. Only as he's looking down, Derek realises that the line of mountain ash trapping him has broken; when Lady Blake threw off Stiles’ pelt, it freed Derek by disturbing the circle. Lady Blake is still trapped in Stiles’ circle, but it appears that while the mountain ash holds her back physically, which is surprising enough, it doesn't affect her magic.

 

Between her hands, a ball of red flames is forming, and though Derek doesn't know what exactly it does, it cannot be good. So when she lifts her hands to throw the magical fire at Stiles, Derek reacts instinctively.

 

He jumps forward and only as his claws rip into Lady Blake’s neck does he realise that he just crossed a line of mountain ash which he shouldn't have been able to cross. Under his hands, Lady Blake gasps wetly, and then slumps to the floor, Derek's claws slipping free. As her heartbeat slows down and stops, the ball of flames fades and the wind settles.

 

When everything is finally calm again, Derek slowly lifts his eyes to Stiles. He's pale and shaking slightly, but seems otherwise unhurt, which fills Derek with relief. He wants to touch Stiles, to make sure there are no hidden wounds and that he's really safe and sound, but his hands are covered with blood and he isn't even sure his touch would be welcome. He did just kill someone in front of Stiles.

 

The realisation makes his stomach turn violently and Derek blurts: “I think I'm going to be sick,” before running outside. He falls to his knees in the gravel and dry heaves, trying to forget the gurgling sounds of Lady Blake dying. His mother's favourite saying was: “I am a predator, but I don't have to be a killer,” and she'd taught her children that mindset, too. Derek struggled to lay the killing blow on a deer; he'd never even come close to killing another human being, evil witch or not.

 

A hand settles slowly on his shoulder, just a finger tapping in a heads-up at first, then the palm is a warm and reassuring weight grounding Derek. Stiles’ scent surrounds him, familiar and comforting, and Derek lets sea and salt overwhelm the metallic tang of blood that’s on his tongue. It takes several conscious deep breaths, but eventually Derek’s heart rate is down to a more normal pace and the urge to vomit has mostly subsided, even if a bit of nausea remains.

 

As Derek stands up, Stiles’ hand slips from his shoulder, but Derek quickly grabs it and squeezes it in thanks, finally able to ask:

 

“Are you okay? Did she hurt you in any way?”

 

“Only my pride,” Stiles says ruefully. “She asked me to meet her in the entrance hall and then must have put some spell on me, because the next thing I know, I’m all trussed up and you are coming in through the door. Why did you come here anyways? And alone at that?”

 

“I thought you’d asked me here,” Derek admits, cheeks growing hot in embarrassment. “I got a letter and it was signed with your name and drenched in your scent, and I was just so sure it came from you. I thought you wrote because you knew about -”

 

Here he trails off, but Stiles immediately asks: “Knew about what? Derek, what did you think I knew?”

 

Derek hesitates but then drops Stiles’ hand after a last reassuring squeeze and says: “Wait here, please.”

 

He hurries inside again, trying to ignore Lady Blake’s lifeless body still lying there, and carefully picks up Stiles’ pelt, shaking it free from mountain ash. He carries it outside, and it’s easy to see when exactly Stiles realises what he’s holding. There’s a jump in his heartbeat and a sudden desperate hope in his face that’s offset by the sadness in his scent.

 

“Let’s go to the shore,” Derek says quietly, instead of commenting on Stiles’ reaction. Thankfully Stiles just follows him without question.

 

Blake Manor has its own private beach and for a second Derek wonders if this is where Stiles’ mother got injured and Stiles lost his coat. Then he puts it off his mind, more occupied with the present and the future than with the past. There’s no changing the latter, but hopefully Derek can play his part to make Stiles’ future brighter at least.

 

They stop near the waterline, and Derek holds out the pelt, offering it to Stiles. With every passing second it seems to gain weight, and a little voice in the back of his head says he should have waited, should have washed at least, should have spent one last day with Stiles before he loses him, but the memory of Stiles’ pain and sorrow at being so utterly removed from his family, at not even knowing whether his mother survived or died is stronger. Keeping Stiles from his pelt for even an hour longer than necessary would be cruel and unjust and not the work of someone who truly loves Stiles. Because Derek does love him, he has realised, loves him so much that he doesn’t want to see him leave, but loves him fully enough to let him go. So he offers Stiles his pelt with shaking hands and says:

 

“Lady Blake gave me possession of this pelt earlier today, saying it was to be mine. I don’t know if that is enough for whoever decides whether a selkie’s pelt has been passed on freely and willingly. Bu with my whole heart I give you your pelt, Stiles Stilinski, willingly and freely, wishing for it to return to you, who it rightfully belongs to. You are not meant to stumble across stones on land; you are meant to crest the waves of the sea. I wish for you to be able to return to your family, to swim with your brethren, to live your life as you wish to live it. This is your pelt, take possession of it again.”

 

Eyes wide, Stiles hesitantly reaches out and takes the pelt, fingers careful and tentative, skimming over the fur as if afraid it’s going to disappear into nothing under his touch. Then he gives it back to Derek, making Derek’s heart stutter in his chest. But Stiles doesn’t walk away or even say anything, he just starts to undress, methodically pulling off layer after layer. It reminds Derek of when he showed Stiles his full wolf form, but there’s none of that playfulness here now, Stiles’ motions precise and controlled, in stark contrast to his heartbeat, though, which is loud and frantic in Derek’s ears.

 

Stiles’ eyes are downcast, lashes creating shadows in the sharp light of the red moon, and it doesn’t even occur to Derek to lower his gaze and sneak a peek, too preoccupied with taking in the face of the one he loves one last time. All too soon, Stiles reaches out to take back his pelt, eyes catching Derek’s for a long moment. Stiles’ eyes are full of fear, but also hope and a trust that makes Derek’s stomach clench. He doesn’t know what his eyes tell Stiles, but whatever it is, it makes Stiles step forward and press against Derek in a hug that feels like too much of a goodbye already. There’s nothing between them but Derek’s clothes and Stiles’ pelt pressed between their chests, but all Derek feels is regret - regret at not having said anything earlier, at not even really having said anything now, at wasting so much time pursuing the ill-fated courtship of Lady Blake, at having to let go of Stiles now or not being any better than her.

 

All too soon, Stiles breaks free from the circle of Derek’s arms again and takes the last steps from the shore into the water, wading in until he’s hip-deep, pale skin almost glowing with its own light under the moon, pelt a dark shadow across his shoulders. Then he wraps it fully around himself and there’s a soft splash as where a man just stood a seal now swims.

 

Derek settles on a rock just behind the waterline, and simply watches Stiles swim. The light of the blood moon is bright enough to see him dipping in and out of waves, pure joy visible in every movement. Derek doesn't know how long he sits there, but the night slowly turns into morning, the sun's first rays colouring the sky pink and purple. Derek realises that he managed to experience a sunrise together with Stiles now after all, even if the experience is vastly different than he'd expected. It's a wistful realisation, as with it comes the thought that it's probably not going to be just the first, but also the last sunrise they'll share.

 

A closer splash draws him out of his increasingly maudlin thoughts, and as he looks up he realises that Stiles has swum nearer to the shore again without Derek noticing. It's the first chance Derek has to look at his seal form more closely.

 

Stiles’ eyes are as striking in this form as in his human form, large and soulful, but not dark like a normal seal’s. They still are as enchantingly bright and beautiful as in his human form - golden and amber and a myriad of colours Derek can't name. The large whiskers on his snout make Derek smile despite himself, as they twitch and vibrate curiously. Stiles’ body, including his head, is slender, streamlined to cut through the water with minimal effort. His fur, wet with water and alive with movement instead of hung up dry on a wall, is glossier and sleeker now, and Derek marvels at the difference.

 

While he's watching, Stiles twitches and in the blink of an eye, the seal is replaced by a man again, kneeling in the surge. He's wet and naked, covered only inadequately by the fur now loosely wrapped around his shoulders, but his eyes are gleaming in the half light of the rising sun. As he stands up slowly and walks closer to the shore, Derek climbs off his rock and moves towards him.

 

They meet on either side of the waterline, Derek on land, Stiles in the water and the symbolism and significance isn't lost on Derek. They stare at each other in silence for a long moment, before Stiles reaches out a hand towards Derek. His hand is wet but warm when Derek takes it, fingers trembling ever so slightly. Stiles seems lost for words, which is a first since Derek has known him. Finally he takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly again in a sigh, and haltingly starts:

 

“I - I honestly don’t know what to say. ‘Thank you’ doesn’t even begin to encompass my gratitude. You’ve given me a gift that I can never repay, Derek.”

 

“There’s nothing to repay,” Derek interjects, needing Stiles to understand this at least, if he can’t know the full extent of Derek’s feelings. “As you said, it was a gift, if even that much, there’s certainly no debt to be counted amongst us. I’m just glad to see you happy and free at last.”

 

He stops before he can reveal himself too much. The voice that sounds like Laura in his head tells him to come clean, to lay bare his feelings and await Stiles’ judgement. But to do so now would feel too much like pressuring Stiles into giving the answer Derek wants to hear. Were Derek to confess his feelings now and Stiles claim to return them, Derek fears he’d always doubt whether his feelings were truly returned out of love and not of a sense of debt - especially with Stiles already talking about repaying Derek for a deed he owes nothing for. So Derek swallows back the words that want to break free from his heart and contents himself with holding Stiles’ hand a little more tightly.

 

“I am,” Stiles replies, smiling slightly. “Very happy and very free. For all that they were invisible for most of my time here, Lady Blake’s bonds held strong nevertheless. And there’s only one bond that could ever make me happy.” There seems to be some significance to his words, but Derek can’t begin to guess what it might be. So he just says, slightly helpless:

 

“That’s all I wish for you - to be happy.”

 

Abruptly, he finds himself with his arms full of wet selkie, pressed against him head to toe, soaking him through. But Derek doesn’t even really notice that, certainly doesn’t care; he simply clutches Stiles even closer and breathes in that beloved scent of sea and salt, shamelessly scenting Stiles in turn, rubbing cheek against cheek and breathing hotly into Stiles’ neck. He knows Stiles’ scent is settling into his clothes and skin in turn and wishes that the mixture of their scents were to stay.

 

“Thank you,” Stiles finally whispers into his ear before detaching himself from Derek slowly. Their touches linger, Derek’s hands stroking down Stiles’ back and along his arms as Stiles is moving backwards, cataloguing the difference between wet seal fur and warm human skin, Stiles’ hands tangling in the hair at the back of Derek’s neck for a moment as if reluctant to let go even though Stiles was the one to break the hug. But finally they are separated once more by the line where water and land meet and Derek is lost for words. What else is there to say?

 

Stiles doesn’t say anything either, simply moves back, eyes caught on Derek’s with every step, the water getting deeper and deeper around him as the sky lightens in a multitude of colours and Derek’s heart sinks and darkens. Stiles holds his gaze for one last long moment, body partly turned away already, sealskin around his shoulders and his face is caught in an expression somehow encompassing both joy and grief, water slipping down his face and shoulders from his wet hair, one drop sliding down his cheek like a tear.

 

Then he pulls his pelt up and around him and disappears into the waves.

 

   

 

~*~

 

The next few weeks pass in a blur.

 

Derek doesn’t know how long he remains standing in the wet sand, at least until the water laps around his ankles and threatens to sweep away the clothes that Stiles left behind - probably the only thing Stiles left behind. He picks them up and then ends up just standing there again, clutching Stiles’ wet and sandy clothes to his chest and knowing he has to move, to move on, but incapable of doing so.

 

A familiar heartbeat and scent draws his attention back to the land behind him eventually. Laura is standing near the cliffs, neither coming closer nor gesturing for him to come to her, simply waiting until he’s ready to leave, to let go. The reminder that he might have lost Stiles, but still has a family and a pack spurs him into action finally and he turns his back to the waves and makes his way towards Laura, who wraps her arms around him as soon as he is close enough, heedless of the mess of water and sand and blood he is and makes of her now, too.

 

“He’s gone,” Derek admits out loud for the first time, and the realisation chokes anything else he might have said. But thankfully Laura doesn’t ask any questions, just squeezes him tighter and says: “I know. You’ll be alright, Derek, I promise that. It doesn’t feel like it right now, but you will be, believe me.”

 

Derek doesn’t believe her, but she probably knows that, too. And it’s not just Stiles, he just realises: the whole situation with Lady Blake - or her body rather - is a terrible mess, too. He says as much to Laura, but to his surprise, she shakes her head and says:

 

“I'll take care of that, don't worry about it.”

 

She waves away Derek's protestations and adds: “You are only in this mess because you wanted to take care of us, me and Cora. So please just let me help.”

 

It's not a hard decision - it's not as if Derek has any idea what he'd do to fix this. So he just nods and lets his big sister take over.

 

Laura must have called for reinforcements before she came to meet him at the beach because soon afterwards Cora arrives with a carriage and between the two of them, Derek is home again before he knows it.

 

The morning isn't old yet, and as Derek hides in his room, he realises that it's been less than a day that he snuck out of this room, excited to meet Stiles. Now Lady Blake is dead, killed by Derek's own hands, and Stiles is gone, also by Derek's doing. It's hard to remember his noble reasons for not keeping Stiles’ coat and with it Stiles when he has now lost both.

 

Cora comes to get him at lunch time, voice hesitant as she calls for him through the door and for a moment Derek considers ignoring her. But then he scolds himself for being immature and egotistical. His family is doing their best to help him and he's not going to repay them with ingratitude.

 

Still, lunch is awkward to say the least.

 

No-one seems to want to address the giant elephant in the room, least of all Derek, but that leads to a lot of long pauses, sideways glances and carefully phrased questions. He can tell that Cora is dying to interrogate him, but their mother interferes whenever she starts, switching topics neatly, though not subtly. Laura's absence from the table makes any attempts at normality impossible, though.

 

She doesn't return until after dinner, refusing to tell Derek anything and simply saying: “I'm taking care of it, Derek, trust me.”

 

So Derek does.

 

He trusts Laura to do whatever she deems necessary and other than that does his best to forget Lady Blake. He rides out even more often than before and longer, trying to escape the gossip that follows him wherever he goes in town.

 

But riding reminds him of Stiles and all the places Derek had wanted to show him and all too often he finds himself at the coast, staring out across the water and wondering where Stiles might be right now and what he might be doing. He worries that Stiles might not find his mother hearty and well and hopes that he does.

 

And guiltily, he wonders whether Stiles thinks of him, too, and hopes that he misses Derek.

 

That's how his mother finds him one day - sitting up high on the cliffs, staring out across the sea and thinking of Stiles. He senses her approach before he scents her, that feeling of safety and contentment that only proximity to his Alpha can evoke. Laura can exude it, too, if she tries and concentrates hard enough, but their mother doesn't even need to think about it.

Derek feels his shoulders relaxing and his breath slowing down as she comes closer, and he embraces it. It used to create heated arguments when he was younger, this control of his body against his wishes. Laura especially bristled at it, becoming only more mad the more their mother calmed her down. Talia had later joked that it had taught her better control than anything else - not just how to use her powers, but also how to not use them.

 

Now, Derek is grateful for the calm his mother's presence offers him. It offers the slightest feeling of detachment, which makes it easier to answer her questions.

 

“How are you, Derek?”

 

“I don't know,” Derek admits, leaning into her touch when she sits down next to him.

 

Talia smiles softly.

 

“That's quite understandable, I think, and I wouldn't even ask, it's just that I haven't seen you much these last weeks.”

 

There's no reproach in her voice, but Derek still feels chastised. He _has_ been avoiding his family and hadn't even thought about how that might feel for them.

 

“I'm sorry,” he apologises sincerely. “I've caused all of you so much grief already that I didn't want to impose my maudlin thoughts on you. Laura is ignoring her own social life in favour of fixing the mess that my reputation has become and Cora has a secret that I can’t even start to decipher because I've been focused on myself for too long. I just hope her secret keeping leads to happier results than mine.”

 

“I don't think you have anything to worry about there,” his mother says, smiling mysteriously. “And as for Laura - there might be more than one reason for her not to pursue the most active social life. But I really think you should talk about that with your sisters yourself. Give them a chance to explain themselves and their thoughts instead of making decisions just because you think they'll benefit them. It was kindly done and I'm sure they more than appreciate it, but they want you happy as much as you want them happy, and don't let anyone say your happiness is worth any less!”

 

Stiles’ face appears before Derek's eye unprompted, how he saw him last, cheeks wet with water, eyes bright with tears and Derek's heart full of joy and deep despair.

 

“I don't think my happiness is an issue anymore,” he says and his mother frowns.

 

“There's no telling what the tide may bring, so don't abandon your ship before the flood, my dear,” she admonishes and Derek wonders how much she really knows. Her metaphors seem to be far too fitting to be pure chance. That more than her words gives him the tiniest sliver of hope that Stiles might not be lost entirely to him yet.

 

Alpha knows best after all.

 

~*~

 

Derek makes a point of talking to his sisters more regularly after the conversation with their mother.

 

It turns out that Laura has been working on having him accepted as the sole heir of Lady Blake’s estate. Apparently there are no relatives to be found anywhere and as her fiance, Derek is eligible to inherit. He doesn't know how he feels about that, but Laura says pointedly that he should have said something earlier then, and that anyways, it's the least he deserves, so he'd better stop complaining and start thanking her instead.

 

Derek does thank her, and with true gratitude, too, because if he's considered as a potential heir that means he's not suspected of causing Lady Blake’s death. It fills him with guilt, because he'll now even profit of killing someone, but the feeling of relief is stronger. He hadn’t dared hope that this whole mess could be cleaned up so quickly.

 

Laura also gently drives the fact home that she's not planning on marrying any time soon, so “no more self-sacrificing for you, Derek!”

 

She sits him down one evening and explains: “I have no interest in marrying anyone, and I don't see that ever changing. I'm happy as I am, and I don't need a lover or spouse. I've thought about it for a while now and I'm very sure of this. I'm just sorry I didn't realise it earlier, because if I had, you might not have been so open to Lady Blake’s proposal.”

 

Her scent has turned sour with regret and Derek presses closer in an attempt to lift it again.

 

“I didn't do it just for you,” he says and Laura nods.

 

“I know, but you did do it for me, too and I wanted to be sure you knew you didn't have to, that you are free to follow your own heart without having to protect mine. And Cora’s is well looked after, too, as far as I can tell.”

 

Cora’s secret is still mostly a mystery to Derek. He keeps smelling roses and parchment on her, but it's becoming less and less easy to distinguish from her own scent. This means that the scents of Cora and her mysterious companion are already mixing, which Derek would find to be cause for concern were Laura not utterly unbothered.

 

He tries talking to Cora about it, but it isn't as smooth going as the conversation with Laura. She remains coy while demanding to know what secret he has been keeping in turn. Derek still refuses to give away Stiles’ secret, unwilling to break his confidence even now when Stiles would probably never be aware of it. But he does admit his own feelings at Cora’s insistence, realising that it's the first time he ever admitted out loud that he was, no _is_ in love to anyone who wasn't already aware of it.

 

Cora is excited at that news at first, all but planning Derek's wedding already, but Derek has to curb her enthusiasm.

 

“He's gone and I don't think he's coming back,” he says and knows his heart doesn't skip a beat. Despite his mother's comments and Laura's faithful hope that Derek shall yet find blissful happiness in holy matrimony, Derek himself does believe that Stiles is lost to him forever. To not do so would mean losing him again and again, each day, each moment.

 

Cora opens her mouth as if to argue more, but something in his face or scent makes her shut it again without saying a single word. She still has that stubborn set to her mouth, though, which tells Derek that the last word has not yet been spoken. Stubbornness runs in the family, and Derek is well aware that he's guilty of it himself.

 

See his refusal to tell Stiles his feelings while he still could. Derek stands by that decision, but he still finds himself back at the beach again and again where he saw Stiles last and wonders - what if?

 

He dreams up scenarios of Stiles staying or returning, as unhappy without Derek as Derek is without him. He imagines Stiles as a man, riding up to him and whisking him away. He also imagines him as a seal, quickly and smoothly crossing the waves, braving storms and high seas to get back to Derek.

 

So when he sees a grey seal swimming up towards the shore when he’s at the beach one day, Derek at first believes his imagination has got the best of him. His eyes are simply showing him what his heart wants to see, no matter what his brain has to say about it. But the seal comes ever closer and though not a day has passed when Derek didn't think of Stiles, he hadn't gotten a good enough look at his seal form to conjure him up in this amount of detail.

 

This isn't a figment of Derek's imagination. This is Stiles, returning freely to the shores where he was held captive for so long. What might have brought him back, Derek dares not think about. But hope swells in his breast nevertheless.

 

Water laps at Derek’s boots and he realises that he has moved up to and beyond the waterline without conscious thought, drawn in by Stiles. The seal is close now, dipping beneath the waves one last time and out of the water rises Stiles, on two legs and two feet, slightly unsteady, wet and naked, the most beautiful sight Derek has ever seen. There's no holding himself back now and Derek wades out to meet him, uncaring that he's still fully clothed, completely focused on the man that is coming to meet him, eyes bright and shining.

 

Stiles is quicker than Derek, seeming to move with the water rather than against it and he takes his last few steps at almost a run, practically jumping into Derek's already open arms. It's a similar scene to their parting, Derek fully clothed where Stiles is naked and wet, both utterly uncaring about their differing states of undress. Stiles’ skin is cold under Derek’s hands, but his breath is warm on Derek’s neck and his heartbeat is the sweetest melody in Derek’s ears. He doesn’t know how long they just stand there, breathing each other in, but eventually the questions become too pressing, so Derek pulls back slightly, just enough to look Stiles in the face and asks:

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

It comes out far harsher than planned and the brief flicker of hurt across Stiles’ face confirms that. Hurriedly Derek opens his mouth to explain himself better, but Stiles is already speaking:

 

“I came to see you. I never properly said goodbye, barely even said thank you, and so I couldn’t just leave things as they were.”

 

“Are you here to say goodbye now?” Derek asks, fear making his throat tight and his voice husky. That’d somehow be even worse - seeing Stiles again, only for him to snuff out the last embers of hope in Derek’s heart. But Stiles shakes his head, stepping completely out of Derek’s embrace, so he can face him fully, resolution clear in every line of his body. He seems to steel himself and then says:

 

“I came back because I couldn’t not. Derek Hale, when I left, there seemed to be something left unsaid between us, certainly from my side, and it was not just goodbye. I came back to say it. If you’ll have me, I’ve come back to stay.”

 

“But what about your family?” Derek asks, even though everything within him wants to scream ‘yes’ instead and hold Stiles so tightly that he can never ever leave again. To his relief, Stiles just shrugs and says:

 

“I can visit them whenever I want to, and they can visit us if they want to. I won’t be separated from them completely again. But I’d be separated completely from you were I to stay down in the depths.”

 

“Why did they not visit you before then?” Derek questions, suddenly mad on Stiles’ behalf. But Stiles just shakes his head soberly, looking sad.

 

“They thought me dead. They didn’t know where we’d gone, so they couldn’t look for us when we first left and then, when so much time had passed - they lost hope.”

 

“Your mother-?” Derek doesn’t even dare to finish the question but thankfully, Stiles brightens again and says:

 

“She is alive and well! Lady Blake held her word at least, though she didn’t heal her fully, just enough to survive. And she told her I had died, so when she was well enough again to swim home, she did. I’ve never seen someone as mad as her when she saw me - I thought she was mad at me for a moment, but her rage was directed at Lady Blake. Telling her she was dead already only made her more furious because that meant she couldn’t exact her revenge! I never knew my mother could be this bloodthirsty!”

 

He sounds half in awe and half distraught, and Derek smiles, imagining a seal, perhaps with colouring similar to Stiles’, attacking Lady Blake. That would have been a sight to see.

 

“I think that’s the prerogatives of mothers everywhere,” he says instead of voicing his thoughts. “Our mother would upend the entire world if something were to happen to one of her children and it seems your mother would even venture into the land of the dead. I’m very glad to hear she is alive and well, though. Did she come with you?”

 

“No,” Stiles says and to Derek’s surprise, starts blushing, lowering his eyes bashfully. “She wanted to, all of them actually, but I begged them to let me come alone first. I didn’t know how you’d welcome me, whether you’d even remember me.”

 

“I could never forget you,” Derek insists hotly, and Stiles’ eyes flick up briefly, that beautiful golden hue Derek has been seeing in his dreams shining brightly.

 

“Nor I you,” he returns, reaching out to take Derek’s hand again. “But I don’t even know how much time has passed up here - time moves differently down in the depths, where there’s no sunshine to divide it into days and nights. So I feared to find you having moved on, rightfully so of course, you never promised me anything and I gave you no reason to, but if that had been the case, I didn't want anyone else to witness my humiliation and heartbreak.”

 

His face is hopeful, but his scent is still tinged with hesitation and uncertainty, as if unsure of Derek’s reaction. That simply cannot stand, so Derek takes both of Stiles’ hands into his and gently draws Stiles nearer again, until he has to look at Derek or stare at the buttons on his shirt. Then Derek says, with utmost sincerity and certainty:

 

“I didn’t say anything before because I did not want to pressure you or force you to choose between me and your family. But I cannot let you believe for even a second longer that you might ever be unwelcome in my life. Stiles Stilinski, you have caught my eye from the moment I saw you; you’ve fascinated and intrigued me from the start and even as I got to know you better, I only found new mysteries I wanted to solve. I know we come from vastly different backgrounds, but I no longer care. I love you, Stiles, and if you’ll have me, I’ll spend the rest of my life with you, whether it be up here or somehow down in the depths of the ocean.”

 

Stiles’ eyes are wide and golden, shining with an emotion Derek doesn’t dare name yet. But his voice is steady and sure as he says:

 

“You taught me to ride and wanted to show me the wonders of the world when all I knew of it were its darkest pits. You gave me hope that life on earth could be just as good as life in the water, if different. When I had no one to turn to, you offered your hand to me. You gave me freedom when you could have kept me shackled, even though you must have believed it meant losing me. I’ve come back to you now, out of my own free will, and if you’ll have me, I’ll never leave you again. That’s how much I love you.”

 

There are no words in any language he knows that would do the fullness in Derek’s heart justice, so instead he silently cups Stiles’ face with his hands and draws him into a soft kiss. Stiles’ lips are warm and tentative under his, unmoving for a long, worrying moment, and then slowly pressing back against Derek’s touch. When Derek strokes a thumb gently over the soft swell of Stiles’ cheek, Stiles’ mouth falls open slightly in a sigh, but Derek doesn’t take the unconscious invitation. He keeps the kiss chaste and tender, content to feel Stiles against him, hear how his heartbeat speeds up when Derek’s fingers tangle in his wet hair, breath in their combined scents.

 

There’ll be a time for passion of a different kind, Derek knows that now, all the time in the world for him and Stiles, so this kiss is not one of desperation, but of love and hope for the future. How that future will look like for wolf and seal, he does not yet know, but as long as he can face it together with Stiles, he’ll face it gladly head-on.

 

~*~

 

Derek’s family welcomes Stiles with open arms and hearts and Stiles’ does the same for Derek when they visit. There are of course some who do not approve in the rest of society, whispers behind fake smiles about the strange union of wolf and seal, forest and sea, but thankfully Stiles and Derek are quickly outshone by a far more interesting couple.

 

Cora finally reveals her secret when she announces her engagement to Princess Lydia, and it suddenly seems so obvious that Derek can’t believe he didn’t see it coming. That scent of parchment and roses that has clung to Cora for a while now is Lydia’s, the princess well known for her studiousness and intelligence and her love of plants, roses in particular. It is said that she cares for the rose garden in the castle herself whenever she can, and now that he thinks about it, Derek recalls Cora having beautiful roses in her room that did not come from their own gardens. Despite voices complaining about the royal line being muddied by were-blood, Cora and Lydia seem to be deliriously happy and Derek delights to see it.

 

He is grateful that his younger sister has found love and that it is returned, despite their different stations and standings in society. It gives him hope that one day those things won’t matter as much. Cora’s and Lydia’s union has certainly helped Stiles and him already, if only by taking most of the attention off them.

 

With the majority of the gossip focussed on the upcoming royal wedding, Stiles and Derek can confirm their love with just the eyes of their loved ones on them. Laura’s gift to them is the finalised inheritance of Lady Blake’s lands and possessions and though Derek thinks it a strange and somewhat cruel reminder of the beginnings of their acquaintance at first, it turns out that this inheritance includes a little house by the sea, right on the shore.

 

Here, they are sheltered from sideways glances and unkind words, free to simply be. There’s space for some stables and Derek finally gets to take Stiles out on those early morning rides to watch the sunrise, despite his grumblings at having to get up so early. This little house is their refuge from the world, a home on the cusp of two realms, the land and the sea.

 

This is where Stiles leaves his pelt when he walks on two legs, secure in the knowledge that Derek will let no harm come to it in their home and that he’ll never use it to keep Stiles constrained to the land. And that knowledge is what keeps Stiles returning, stepping out of the sea onto the land and into the arms of the man he loves, his fur warm around his back, but Derek’s arms warmer still wrapped around him.

 

The waterline no longer divides them.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear what you thought, so please leave a comment below or come talk to me on [tumblr](https://thedaughterofkings.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Please don't forget to also send your love and appreciation for [hd-hales'](https://hd-hale.tumblr.com) art - you can marvel at it in full glory [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15355968)! But please don't repost the art anywhere, and don't critique it either.
> 
> And finally, the wonderful [Larissa](https://ohfuckthisshit.tumblr.com) did not just improve this fic greatly with her beta-ing help, she also drew me some absolutely gorgeous art to go with it, so now there's three pieces of art for my fic, and I am so grateful for every single one! Go have a look at it [here](https://ohfuckthisshit.tumblr.com/post/177051783388/stiles-is-quicker-than-derek-seeming-to-move-with) and don't forget to give it a like and reblog!
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Waterline Divides Us](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15355968) by [HDHale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HDHale/pseuds/HDHale)




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